


To Rescue Her

by MadamSnark



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Falling In Love, Fort Drakon, Light Angst, Rescue, Rescue Missions, Zevran/Warden Week 2016, zevran's earring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-27 18:54:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10039913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadamSnark/pseuds/MadamSnark
Summary: Completed piece originally posted for ZevWarden week 2016: Friday, August 5: “It’s meant a lot to me, but so have… so has what you’ve done.”Zevran and Leliana fight their way through Fort Drakon to rescue the wardens. Zevran and Kallian both deal with feelings of regret over the outcome of Zevran's rejected earring.





	

A life time of breaking into estates and slipping into all manners of dingy holes and hovels had not prepared Zevran for the anxiety it would give him when the end goal was to find someone alive rather than dead. All the more worrying when that someone was his warden and that warden was the very person his life was tied to, and even that was simplifying the matter considerably. There were far too many feelings tied up in the matter, and at the forefront was heart-ache inducing worry, the likes of which it seemed only Kallian could supply for him. Damn her, but Maker protect her.

He stalked towards the hall of guards, and his fingers twitched at the hilts of the long knives strapped to his hips. Weapons within reach, and eyes peeled for the tiniest flinch of motion, Zevran embraced the killer within - his lifetime companion.

“Down,” Leliana hissed, throwing out an arm to pull him back along the wall beside her.

The rogues’ breath stilled in mutual silence as the clanking of chainmail fell away. The time for sweet talking and flattery was behind them. They were upon the depths of the prison far inside the walls of Fort Drakon.

Zevran peered around the corner, flicking a knife up into his main hand were he to happen upon an unfortunate guard. He squinted for a moment, allowing his eyes to adjust to the dim light and saw the outlines of people behind bars.

“They must have been taken here,” Leliana’s whisper was right at his ear, barely a breath.

He nodded, jaw clenching as he was forced to listen to yet another clang and rattle of a door being opened, and he cringed internally, waiting for the feminine shrieks to follow, his heart only momentarily slowing when the deep voiced echoes of pain bounced off the walls.

Another pair of guards swept by and Zevran pressed himself back against the wall. Either they would have to kill the guards now, or fight them on their way out. Having no idea how the wardens would fare once released, he elected to minimize the future fighting.

“On my count,” he breathed and held out his hand low behind him, dropping fingers from three, two, one.

Leliana stepped out from the wall, arrow whipping from her bow straight into one guard's neck and he dropped with no more sound than a shocked gurgle. His partner turned in shock, shouting for backup before Zevran ended his alarm with a thrown knife. Footsteps clattered from down the hall and another three guards poured from a doorway opposite them.

The rogue duo stepped back to back, posture mirroring each other as Zevran unslung his Antivan longbow from his back and Leliana took aim at the first man running towards them. Zevran slipped the arrow into a poison vial before he too mimicked her aim, arm pulled back, bowstring taut, as he tracked the guards’ movements.

A wicked shot brought the running guard down with an arrow to his knee and Leliana was already nocking a second arrow, all while humming a song under her breath much to Zevran’s amusement. Zevran's first shot didn’t sink the target, but it forced the man to dodge out of the way, leaving only a nick to his ear. The assassin smirked - such was the way with poison, he had no need for his arrows to land perfectly - and the man slowed then fell, twitching on the ground. His next arrow pierced through the second guard’s eye, dropping him instantly.

He only had a moment to appreciate the kill when Leliana was pulling him to the side, and the sharp sting of an arrow sliced across his upper arm. He ignored the sting in favour of the kill, throwing a flask of acid at the final archer, waiting for the air to clear before he leapt one final time to drag a knife across his throat.

The cacophony seemed to have dragged out the rest of the guards on the floor, and a few more swift arrows from the bard stopped them in their tracks, Zevran’s blades enough to finish the job.

They only paused long enough to retrieve their arrows and for Zevran to wrap his arm with a few healing herbs and the last of the bandages Leliana had. The minor throbbing was easy enough to push to the back of his mind with Kallian ever lingering at the forefront.

Keeping low, they edged along the walls, passing cell after empty cell. What purpose was their in having a prison if they hardly had the prisoners to fill it? It seemed Loghain was more the type for swift execution - if Zevran’s own involvement was any proof of the matter.  

Only a few lanterns were lit but Zevran could see the outline of people ahead: an older man lay in one corner, another cell with a grizzly looking mercenary type. Further to the right a broad-shouldered man stood pacing - Alistair! And beside him - Zevran stopped breathing. An unmistakably feminine figure curled on the floor, looking smaller as she lay in only her small clothes. Both wardens stripped of weapons, armour, even their clothes. Of course, anything to strip a prisoner of their humanity and dignity - not just to expose them to the cold of the dungeon, but remind them of their worthlessness in the eyes of the jailor.

“Braska,” he whispered, though the curse was barely an adequate outlet for the anger welling up in him.

He stalked towards Alistair, trembling hands fumbling for the lockpicks in one of his belt pockets.

“You’ll not touch her again,” Alistair loudly warned the shadowy figures approaching.

“Alistair, you’re all right!” Leliana sang out, announcing their presence to the wardens. “I’ll get the lock, Zev, do not trouble yourself,” she pressed a hand to his trembling one with a knowing look.

“You’re here? You’re really here! Kal, hey it’s okay, Zevran’s here just like you said,” Alistair’s voice turned soft as he spoke to his fellow warden.

Zevran knelt in front of the bars, feeling detached from his body, a strange hopelessness as she winced sitting up, a trembling arm wrapped around a bruised middle. He could tell in the way she minced her steps that her ribs had been cracked, eyes red and tears tracked through dusty cheeks.  

“Zev,” her voice broke, reaching for him. “You came,” she choked back another sob.

Still she longed for him, even after he had been callous and cold; his own hurt and confusion turning outward in defence as she turned down his gift. How did he deserve her affection? And yet he clasped her hand through the bars, thumb rubbing soothing circles on the back of her hand, pressing closer, aching to feel her against his body without metal digging into him at every angle. He couldn’t defend himself from her. Kallian was the blazing fire that ate away at everything he put up in front of himself, and still burned inside him with need. Warmth, comfort, soft touches, all things she offered him and all he could do in return for her now as at last Leliana sprung open the lock and he could rush in.

Gingerly he picked up Kallian’s shivering form, aching that her arms would still reach around his neck as he breathed in the smell of her hair, murmuring that he had her, and Maker be damned he _would_ have her. He would not fail her again.

* * *

 

Kallian distinctly heard a squeak in a floorboard moments ago but it had turned to a quiet stillness. She still had the unmistakable feeling of someone hovering near her. It had to be Zevran. She _hoped_ it was Zevran. She was coming to…perhaps regret, turning down the offer for his earring. He had been distant. He acted like it hadn’t bothered him but, Kallian knew better. There was a depth to Zev that few saw. Just because he hadn’t been able to get the words out, didn’t mean she had to push him. Why did she have to try to force him to admit something he wasn’t ready for? It was a gift. She had given him plenty, why did this have to be different? Idiot.

To make it even worse, he had come for her and Alistair in Fort Drakon, and she had been close to tears in panic, and then he been there; worrying over her, touching her, caressing her face, whispering in Antivan. They returned to Arl Eamon’s and then…just nothing. He was distant again. Her own damn fault.

The door creaked open and the tattooed face she was longing for finally appeared. His blond hair was loose to his shoulders, freshly bathed. Kallian was used to seeing him carefree, or at least a show of it. Now his eyes were shifty, worrying his lip between his teeth. Was he nervous? Yes, Kallian had fucked it all up. He was nervous around her - she rejected his gift! His attempt to give her something nice and she had told him no. Stupid.

“Zev…” she said softly, after he had only come a couple feet into her room.

His eyes met hers with a softness he saved only for her. Crinkled in the corners with a small smile that made her heart flutter. Maybe things were going to be okay.

“My wa- my Kallian.” Her heart leaped again. “I have been…foolish. Yes that is what I have been.” He covered the last few paces to her bed and sat on the edge, fingers brushing against her purple collar bone. “You are feeling better? Pain is gone?”

“Just the bruises - mostly gone, thanks to Wynne.”

“They should not have been there at all,” Zevran glowered.

“You came for me. That’s all that matters.” Kallian covered his hand with her own, where his fist was clenched.

“I could have lost you!” Zevran’s eyes burned into hers. “My one - the only…I could have lost you.”

“You didn’t,” Kallian reassured him, just happy that he was finally back, sharing with her. He wasn’t the best at expressing his feelings but Maker, he was trying.

“I won’t. I can’t. Mi amor,” he sighed and rested his forehead against hers. He brushed his hands along her cheeks, cradling Kallian’s face against his own, centering himself in her presence. She could feel his warmth around her, the warmth of his hands but also of his heart.

“I have messed up enough. Made mistakes. But you are not one of them. I won’t let you become one of them. I know I don’t deserve it but…” Zevran closed his eyes, breathing deeply, whether he was searching for the words, or for the courage, Kallian wasn’t sure.

“Zev,” she encouraged, running her hands through his hair soothingly. He was so quiet, so soft in this moment. She wanted to stay like this, just holding each other, Blight be damned.

“If you would… I want to give you my earring. Because you have meant a lot to me.” His amber eyes were unwavering when she looked up in shock.

“Okay,” Kallian blurted.

“Okay? Just like that she says okay?” Zevran wondered aloud.

“If it means something, of course I will accept this gift from you Zev,” she whispered, brushing her lips against his. Kallian was elated. Sitting here in her room, bruises marring her neck and torso, Blight looming over her, and she was beyond happy. Finally feeling that lightness she was used to, she was happy to tease, “So are we married in Antiva?”

Zevran brushed his lips along the back of her hand, an earnest intensity blazing across his face, “If mi amor wishes it, we shall be married wherever she likes.”


End file.
